The Unsuspecting side of the Force
by Tsu Doh Nimh
Summary: A companion fic to "The Havoc side of the Force". Extra scenes and different perspectives from that story.
1. Chapter 1

disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is either JK's or George's. I dare say anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Ima-Gun Di sat in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Ordinarily, the Red Nikto Jedi Master would not select such an aquatic scene for his meditation; his species had evolved in the deserts of Kintan. Arid air and bright sunlight was more to his liking. However it was not for his benefit that he sat in the Fountain Room this day.

Seven younglings sat arrayed before him, each with their eyes closed and bodies relaxed. The expressions of concentration on their faces ranged from serene to comically intense.

"Relax and feel the Force flow through you," Di said softly. "Let your senses ride the flow. Feel each other's presence, their place in the Force." He paused his instruction, letting the small group follow his words. He let his own senses reach out to them. They were ready.

"Now, gently change the course of the Force. Encourage it to flow around you, rather than through you."

One of the younglings frowned, and the Force rippled around him.

"Do not demand it," he gently chided. "Request it. The Force is your ally, not your servant."

The group as a whole struggled with the task. Hiding oneself from the sight of others with Force talent was a skill few gained without difficulty.

"Observe," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "Reach out with your mind. Look for me through the Force." He waited a moment before continuing. "Now, observe the effect the technique creates."

Di gently disengaged himself from the Force, creating a small 'null' space within the flow. With the Force no longer touching him, he was as vulnerable as any non-Jedi - blind and powerless. However, he was also invisible to those searching for him through the Force.

Di sat in the tiny pocket empty of the Force for long moments, allowing the younglings time to observe and probe. Giving them a demonstration of the effect would aid them in trying to recreate it themselves.

Suddenly, screams echoed around the room.

Di's eyes flashed open, and he let the Force flood back. Pain erupted briefly in his soul, but he pushed the distraction away and leapt to his feet, hand reaching unconsciously for his lightsaber.

It did not appear needed. There were no enemies in this peaceful room, here in the heart of the Jedi Temple. But Jedi forms lay insensate around the room. A more careful examination showed that all the other Masters and Knights were flat on their collective backs. Even some of the older Padawans. With the exception of himself, the most experienced Force-user still conscious was a ten year old Padawan.

Di once more scanned the room, this time looking for threats. Everyone who could touch the Force to any great degree had been floored. Everyone who still lacked the experience to do so was fine. What had happened?

Had some unknown agent attacked them through the Force? It seemed that by willfully cutting himself from its flow, Di had unwittingly protected himself.

The Force told him nothing; indeed, the Force was barely responding. It rolled and churned and roiled, like a primitive, invertebrate worm thrashing about in pain. Around him, panicking younglings fretted over Jedi Knights and Masters where they lay. The noise of babbling voices rose steadily until an odd splash and a gasp drew Di's attention.

The head of a human male, his mouth open wide, burst above the surface of the main fountain. Noisily, the young man sucked in a deep breath, before apparently diving under the surface.

Di frowned at the unexpected presence. Was the human attempting to rescue someone in the fountain? Di breathed out, focusing his mind. He stretched out with his senses.

The Force was strained and muted, and appeared scared from some horrific wound. Even so, it was apparent that the human was the only being under the water's surface.

It was also apparent that he was in terrible pain. Even from a distance of over ten metres, Di could hear the man scream underwater.

The human once more broke the surface and thrashed around in the water. After a moment, he discovered that the fountain was only a little more than a metre deep. After a second of embarrassment, he placed his hands on the stone edge of the fountain and hauled his sodden body out.

The unexpected newcomer was slender and wiry – his clothing clung to his frame enough that Di could make out his musculature. The soaking clothing appeared well made and functional, and the rapid way it dried indicated that it was made with modern super-hydrophobic materials. He appeared to be in good health, if much shorter than the average human. Yet he wore a positively _primitive_ set of corrective lenses over his eyes.

His wits still appeared a bit scrambled, however. He placed his feet squarely on the tiles surrounding the fountain, but swayed violently as he rose to his full, unimpressive height. Balance lost, the human fell to one side, his head striking the stone of the fountain edge sharply. The dull 'thunk' was clearly audible from Di's position.

The Jedi Master blinked and moved forward at speed, more than a bit embarrassed at his temporary loss of focus. Still, the human did not appear to be incapacitated. Indeed, he showed great presence of mind and began to calm himself with a series of deep, slow breaths.

An adaptation of a Jedi technique? Di frowned slightly at the thought. The young human did not appear to be Force sensitive. At least, he did not instinctively draw on the Force to refresh himself. Still, the Jedi Order had influenced countless spiritual movements during its long history. Meditation and breathing exercises were not useless to the non-Force-blessed. Such techniques were useful to all in focusing concentration.

The newcomer lifted his body upright but remained on his knees and looked around at the room and its occupants. "_Where am I_?" it said in the manner of someone asking a question. But the language was not familiar to Di.

It did not appear that any of the conscious Jedi understood him either, youngling or no.

"_Does anyone speak English? No? Er, Français? No? Deutsch? Er, Nihongo_?"

Di stepped forward, pulling a small flimsy from his robes. "Do you speak Basic?" he asked as he offered the material to the human, gesturing to the wound on his head.

The human shrugged, but took the cloth and held it to his head. Di turned to one of his students. "Please fetch a protocol droid, youngling."

The injured human looked around the room, his breath hitching slightly as he noticed the unconscious Jedi. Di immediately felt the odd man's apprehension spike. He rose to his feet, still swaying slightly. Di gently reached out and gripped the man's shoulders, steadying him.

"_I should go_," the human mumbled in that odd language of his. He reached up and tried pushing Di's hands away. "_Excuse me_."

"You should rest, you are injured," Di said softly, trying to calm the man with his voice, to let him know that he would not be blamed for the unconscious bodies lying around him.

"_Excuse me_," the human repeated more forcefully, disengaging Di's hands from his shoulders. He started moving towards the nearest exit.

Di's student returned at that moment, leading one of the Temple's protocol droids. The C-series droid was one of the more unintimidating models, but the human's reaction was still one of shock. He almost jumped at the sight.

Had he never encountered a protocol droid before?

The silver droid stepped towards the human, stopping at the exact distance statistically derived to be least likely to cause offence in the human and near-human races. "Greetings, I am C5-R82, human cyborg relations."

The human blinked and his jaw dropped open. He appeared even more surprised than he had been a second ago.

Di addressed the droid. "He does not appear to speak Basic."

The protocol droid engaged its first contact protocols, and began cycling generic greetings in the more common tongues spoken throughout the galaxy. The droid could speak and translate untold hundreds of thousands of languages, perhaps even millions if it were one of the more modern models.

However, none of the initial languages seemed to be familiar to the odd human. Despite his initial wonder at the droid's appearance and vocal abilities, he quickly grew impatient. "_Sorry, I don't understand. Do you speak English_?" he reeled off with a shake of his head.

C5-R82 shifted the first contact protocol to a more primitive setting. The droid touched its chest-plate and recited its designation.

The human mimicked the action, saying, "_Er, Harry_."

C5-R82 repeated the words exactly.

The human sighed. With a shake of his head, he responded, "_Just Harry. Where am I_?" he asked, looking around the room.

The droid gestured towards the centre of the room. "Jedi Temple, Harry." It paused, before continuing, "Do you know of the Jedi? Do you have Jedi on your world?"

But the human had apparently lost interest in communicating. He gave a wave of his arm and started moving towards the main entrance. A few of the less shy younglings trotted after him, babbling questions in their own native tongues. C5 gave a squawk and tried following along, but its short pace made it impossible for it to keep up.

Di would have followed, had there not been dozens of Jedi in need of assistance.

With a sigh, the Master set about triaging and caring for his friends. The mystery of the odd human would need to be solved another time.

* * *

High in the grand central spire of the Jedi Temple, eight powerful Jedi Masters sat in contemplation. Grand events were in motion, both in the Senate and around the Galaxy.

The early hour meant little to beings who could control their internal body clocks with a simple breathing exercise. Even though a small but significant fraction of the species that made up the Galactic Senate were nocturnal by nature, activity in the Senatorial Sector of Coruscant still wound down overnight. In the early hours of morning, while the rest of their neighbours roused themselves from slumber, the Jedi were as active as they needed to be.

Four of the seats arrayed around the room were taken up by holographic projections of absent council members, distance being no obstacle to modern communications.

The unassuming discussion broke off suddenly, as each of the dozen powerful Jedi felt an unusual foreboding sensation. Almost in unison, they closed their eyes and reached out with their senses.

The Force shattered around them.

Yoda, pre-eminent among the Masters who made up the council, remained the only member not to scream.

The diminutive green figure did, however, join his fellows in unconscious oblivion.

* * *

In the Senatorial Sector, a man known to all as intelligent, genial and kindly gasped in shock as his meditation was disturbed. Pain lanced through him as the Force, in which he constantly wove a shroud of darkness, split and screamed.

But pain was comforting to a Sith Lord. Pain, was an old friend.

The unprecedented disturbance left him weak and trembling, but he retained enough presence of mind to trigger a security protocol. Anyone present in his quarters would find themselves assaulted by clouds of hallucinogenic gases, ionic discharges and other, nasty traps. Though not lethal, they would ensure than any unwelcome visitor was rendered incapacitated until he was ready to properly greet them.

Only then did he relinquish himself to oblivion.

* * *

At approximately the mid-point between Tatooine and Coruscant, a J-type 327 Nubian thrummed softly through hyperspace. A state of affairs made possible by the efforts of a nine-year-old boy. The newly-installed T-14 hyperdrive generator performed to specification, enabling the sublimely beautiful craft to travel faster than light.

The nine-year-old boy in question was not thinking about the generator. He was not thinking about his mother, left behind on the arid world of Tatooine. He was not thinking about Padmé, his newest friend with the face of an angel.

His current thoughts were focused on getting the man responsible for his freedom to awaken. "Master Qui-Gon! Master Qui-Gon!" he almost shouted, holding the older man's hand and shaking his shoulder. "Wake up!"

"Ani!" his friend Padmé said, gently gripping the young boy's arm. "Let them take Master Qui-Gon and Obi-wan to the medbay."

Anakin allowed the bustling Nabooans to whisk the pair of Jedi away from him. He clutched at Padmé's arm nervously. "Why did the shock knock them out?" he asked her.

The handmaiden looked down at the short boy. "Shock? What shock?"

Anakin blinked owlishly at her. "You didn't feel it?"

Padmé shook her head. "I felt nothing."

"It was..." Anakin paused to collect his thoughts, trying to describe the sensation using the vocabulary of a nine-year-old slave – albeit a nine-year-old slave who was a mechanical genius. "… wrong. Something has gone wrong. And it made everything shake."

Padmé leaned forward, setting her deep brown eyes level with Anakin's. "Ani? Was it the Force?"

He frowned. "I think so. There's something else now. Something that wasn't here before." He frowned. "Two things, I think." He didn't know how he knew. He just did. It felt right.

"What things?" the handmaiden asked. Before landing on Tatooine, she would have politely dismissed such claims. But the prepubescent boy before her had exhibited abilities she had not believed possible.

Anakin frowned, thinking deeply. After a moment, he remembered Master Qui-Gon's words, and stopped thinking so hard. Feeling, he discovered, was much easier than thinking.

"People," he confidently stated. "Two people. They shouldn't be here. They're going to ruin everything."

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: This secondary fic is going to be a collection of disjointed scenes from the point of view of different Star Wars characters. It will make little sense without reading the primary fic - The Havoc side of the Force.


	2. Chapter 2

disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is either JK's or George's. I dare say anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Milanench received a bare half second's warning click before a crate of salvaged droid heads landed on the shop floor behind him. The Harch spun his bulbous body around and raised his cane threateningly. He cursed and ranted at the incompetent who'd almost squashed him.

He didn't recognise the worker; no doubt it was one of the numerous spawn of one of his lazy nest-mates.

Just as he was taking a breath in order to continue his tirade, a human voice interrupted him. He'd missed the customer entering his store in all the commotion. "_Do you happen to have anything that can translate for me_?"

Milanench turned to face the human. It was a young adult – male, presumably. The Harch could never tell with any surety. It... no, _he_ wore high-quality clothes and stood like a warrior born. The green eyes however were most unsettling; not just the fact that it had a single pair, but the intense colour. Thankfully, the hideous organs were behind a pair of archaic corrective lenses.

Odd that a human would not open negotiations in Basic. The Harch stretched out an arm towards his protocol droid. "M9! Translate!"

As the droid stepped forward to speak to the human, Milanench observed his customer closely. There was something about him that made the old spider nervous. Very, very nervous. There was nothing out of the ordinary, besides the human's odd ignorance of Galactic Basic, but for some reason, Milanench really, really wanted the young man out of his shop.

M9 seemed to have difficulty in understanding the human's speech. The droid even tapped its chest plate and recited its designation as though it were meeting a new species for the first time.

After a few rounds, the human eventually shook his head in disgust. "_I want to buy a robot that can understand me_," he said, while pointing towards M9.

He wanted to purchase the protocol droid? Not likely, or at least, not for an insignificant sum. Milanench reached out and gestured for some credits.

The Harch stiffened suddenly as the human drew a blaster, but instead of threatening with it, he placed it on the counter. Obviously offering it for trade.

Milanench glanced down. A DL-44 heavy blaster pistol. Durable, efficient and popular with smugglers and bounty-hunters. Simple to resell, retaining most of its value.

The Harch almost laughed. The human really thought that such a mass-produced weapon was anywhere near the cost of a protocol droid? More like… He reached behind him into the recently scattered droid heads and picked one at random. He tossed it to the human, and snatched the blaster off the counter.

The human struggled briefly with the rusty droid head, before adjusting to the odd balance. "_That's it? This hunk of junk is all I'm getting_?" the human demanded incomprehensibly.

Despite the droid remains being worth less than a tenth of the probable resale value of the blaster, Milanench stood firm. He had a business to run after all, and the last thing he wanted was to give this human such a good deal that he would think of returning.

The human gave up after a couple more attempts to parley more value from the transaction, and turned away without further incident. Milanench watched him leave the store. Something about the creature frightened the old spider; some feeling he couldn't shake. He turned his head to face his protocol droid. "M9, what language was that thing speaking?" he clicked.

M9-R42 took a few subtle steps backwards and to his right in order to turn to face his owner in a properly deferential manner. "I am afraid I have no idea," the droid clicked back. "Linguistically, the words of his language seem to be made up of few syllables, with inflection apparently random. Without more exposure I cannot be sure, but I calculate a moderate probability that the language originates from a low-technology culture."

"Non-Spacefaring?"

"Almost certainly."

Milanench shook his head and resettled six of his legs in their positions against his body. The sense of relief that had washed over him as the human had exited the store was still fresh in his mind. Whoever he was, Milanench wanted absolutely nothing to do with the human ever again.

"Get the astromechs to assemble some guard droids. If he comes back, I want to scare him off."

* * *

Obi-wan frowned as he and his Master were ushered out of the Council room with unseemly, even un-Jedi-like, haste. His Master's report on the status of their mission had been received with polite disinterest, as though an entire peaceful, civilised world forced to exist under the yoke of an uncaring foreign power was a matter of little import.

The revelation that a Sith had been encountered had far more impact. Yet not for the impact to the mission.

Master Qui-Gon had found the reception odd too, and had pointedly asked about it. After all, the mission had been instigated at the personal request of the Supreme Chancellor. Politically, the outcome was imperative. If the ancient enemies of the Jedi were once again stirring, then their impact on the current political environment must be considered. Especially as the target of the Sith appeared to be the Queen of Naboo.

But to no avail. The non-answers had been curt and dismissive. The assembled Masters were far more interested in the fact that the Sith had reappeared concurrently with the enormous Force disturbance that had left the pair vulnerable.

They had been very interested in the effect that incredible Force disturbance had on the pair, light-years away and in hyperspace. Both Master and padawan were questioned deeply on how long they had been rendered insensate, and how far from Coruscant they had been when the event occurred.

Their own questions of the event had been brushed aside.

The one flicker of interest in the mission had come only when the young stowaway had been mentioned. Qui-Gon had claimed that Anakin was a vergence of the Force. That announcement had been met with some murmuring, especially when Skywalker had been described as a young, male human, but the interest quickly dissipated when a more descriptive version of his age, appearance and origin had been given.

Despite the boy's unprecedented midi-chlorian count, it had taken all of his Master's persuasion for the Jedi Council to even consider meeting with the lad; and even then the meeting was scheduled well into the future.

Obi-wan opened his mouth to question his Master, when both Jedi gasped at a sudden, intense disturbance.

After a second or two, the padawan shot his Master a questioning look. "Master? Another one! They are becoming more regular. What-?"

Qui Gon held up a hand, and the sounds of frantic discussion echoed from behind the door to the Council Chamber. "Not here, Obi-wan. Come."

Obi-wan glanced over his shoulder as he was led away, noting with interest that four of the Councilors emerged from the room with expressions of intense determination as they headed in the direction of the vehicle bay.

* * *

Darth Maul entered his master's secret chambers, deep in the heart of the labyrinthine property. It was one of the most guarded dwellings on the already paranoid planet; protected by both mundane technology and the Force. As he expected, Darth Sidious was waiting for him. The cloaked figure's face was in deep shadow under the robe's hood, only his chin, mouth and the tip of his nose visible. Maul knelt before his master.

"Report, Lord Maul," the cloaked figure said in a cultured, yet menacing voice.

"Your intelligence was correct, my Master. The queen was on Tatooine."

There was a short pause. "Yet, you have not returned with her."

"No, Master. I located the Queen's transport just as it was lifting off. I engaged the Jedi Jinn, hoping to force the ship to land, but he was able to escape me."

Darth Sidious looked down on his apprentice and mentally cursed. His apprentice Maul was a supreme warrior and powerful force user, but beyond the scope of combat he had little subtlety. He lived for battle; lived to kill at his master's whim. A living weapon that could be used as a deftly and discretely as a laserscalpal or as crudely and devastatingly as the blunt instrument he was named for. So eager to engage the Jedi, he had discarded the very secrecy that had kept them relatively safe for so long.

"The Queen has arrived on Coruscant, and will address the Senate tomorrow," Sidious informed his apprentice. "The Jedi have no doubt reported your existence to their council. They will assume that you were attempting to abduct the Queen, and will focus their surveillance of her accordingly."

Darth Maul remained on one knee, waiting for his Master to pronounce his punishment for failure. "Two Jedi or twenty, it makes little difference. Shall I kidnap her before she addresses the Senate?"

"No, my apprentice. Her presence there can be exploited." Sidious had instructed the Nemoidians to capture the young monarch and force her to sign the treaty he had drafted. Both depressingly and predictably, they had failed. Without the queen's forced ratification of the treaty, he did not have the 'evidence' that his home planet was being punished in response to the Senate's taxation laws. Without that treaty, he could not muster support from specific voting blocs in his upcoming attempt on the Chancellor's Office. He needed that treaty to enact his plans.

But while her successful escape from the blockaded planet briefly stymied his plans, it also opened some other opportunities. It would be trivial to convince the Queen to call for a vote of no confidence in Valorum. But taking that step would in turn force him into making other moves earlier than originally planned. Without the treaty, it would be difficult, but not impossible to convince others of the danger to Naboo's sovereignty. This new set of circumstances had a lower probability of success, unless proof could be found of Naboo's occupation.

Still, he could not wait for rumours of the horrific conditions on Naboo to filter their way across the galaxy. For the greatest probability of success he would need Queen Amidala to address the Senate, call for a vote of no confidence in the Chancellor, and then fall into the Trade Federation's hands. Maul could kidnap her, certainly, but he would have a greater chance of success if Sidious could manipulate the Queen to into making the decision to return to Naboo herself. That should be relatively easy; she was a naïve child with an immature understanding of the realities of her situation.

"As you wish, my Master."

"Rise, Lord Maul. It will be some days before you shall be required to capture Queen Amidala. There is another task I must lay upon you."

Maul rose to his feet, meeting his Master's gaze. He remained silent, waiting with the patience of a cadaver for his Master to speak.

"There was a powerful disturbance in the Force. Beyond any in all of history."

Maul swallowed. "I felt the Force shriek, even in hyperspace," he offered cautiously.

Sidious nodded. "It was powerful enough that I suspect every Force Sensitive in the galaxy felt it. But there have been others; less intense, but more specific. Centred on Coruscant."

"Master, what has caused them?"

This time, Sidious snarled. "The Jedi are hunting a human. The Force does not flow through him. He tears it instead of wielding it, and the Force cries out each time. Find him, Lord Maul. Find him and _destroy_ him. Destroy him before he destroys the Force itself."

"Your will, my Master," the Sith replied. Despite his curiosity, he did not voice the question on his mind.

But Maul had no secrets from his Master. A smile played around Sidious' lips as he answered the unspoken question. "I have another way of learning his secrets, my Apprentice."

Sidious watched as his apprentice left, contemplating events. It was unfortunate that this should happen now. The Jedi would be on guard now; alert and curious for any unexpected event. And Maul had just revealed himself to them.

Had he the opportunity, he would have severely punished his apprentice. It was certain that the Jedi would consider the events related. But that would need to wait until events had run their course. He needed Maul and his precisely directed violence now.

Sidious swept from the room and drifted towards another secure room deep within the complex. He activated the security protocols on the door, both the external scanners and the internal, Force-manipulated locks. Once open, he stepped inside, his senses stretched out before him.

The medical and scientific droids bustled around the prisoner, taking scans and samples. Without the burden of ethics protocols, the machines performed efficiently in gathering data and answers.

The naked woman bound to the theatre table had not been allowed to regain consciousness, not since she had been overcome by the defenses in his quarters. Her arrival coincided precisely with that of the human male the Jedi were hunting. It was no great stretch to assume the pair were somehow related.

There was a certain elegant symmetry to it. One arriving in the heart of the Light, the other in the pit of the Dark. Of course, only the Sith had the presence of mind to extract whatever value possible from the opportunity. The Jedi were predictably offended, and would attempt to destroy 'their' resource.

"Yes," he repeated to himself, as the woman's body was repeatedly violated by the droids. "I have another way of learning his secrets."

* * *

Tracking the human was trivial. Either he was ignorant of what effect his manipulation of the Force had, or he was ambivalent. Neither situation was tenable; the potential for havoc was too great. Maul's master was perfectly correct in his assessment – the human must die.

The most recent Force tremblings drew the Sith like a mynock to a power conduit. To Maul's Force senses, the human might just have been carrying a tracking beacon.

The luxury hotel in which his target was located loomed large on both the screen in front of him, and on Maul's senses. The Sith considered his options. The most efficient method would be to simply drop a small warhead onto the building, and bring it down. The only problem with that approach would be the difficulty in confirming the human's death afterwards. Maul was a perfectionist, and even a minute chance of failure meant that the tactic was not worth considering.

In any event, Maul craved challenge. His brief duel with the Jedi Jinn on Tatooine had whetted his appetite for battle. This human who could rend the Force would be a welcome diversion, and would perhaps even be a challenge.

With skill won from hard hours of laborious practice, Maul piloted his craft around to one of the freight entrances in the lower levels of the building. He exited, and engaged the security protocols.

It was the work of a moment to drift unnoticed past the workers on duty. Maul cloaked himself in the Force and drifted as silent as a shadow through the opulent building, passing by guests and staff unable to register his presence. Had it proved necessary to his mission, or even minutely increased his chance of success, he'd have snuffed the life from every one of them without hesitation or remorse. As things stood, he ignored them, focusing all his attention on the task his master had assigned him.

The closer he got to his target, the more he felt the pervasive pollution of the Force. It was not the malignant taint of the Dark Side; Maul bathed in that daily. This was _contamination_.

He entered a service turbolift and selected the top floor. The utilitarian capsule rose up through the hotel. A soft chime announced the end of the journey. Maul stepped out of the turbolift and extended his senses, feeling his way to his target. With deliberate steps, he made his way through the elaborately decorated hallways.

He paused in his advance down the final corridor. To his senses, a shimmering veil covered the hallway for several metres on either side of the penthouse door. Whatever it was, he would have to pass it.

Maul closed his eyes and dropped even deeper into the Force, wrapping the living energy around him. Tentatively, he stepped forward, letting his Force sense guide him. He reached out with both hands and used the Force to touch, and then to grasp the invisible veil. He drew his arms apart, stretching the veil thin. He spent a few moments experimenting, twisting and stretching the energy curtain, getting a feel for its properties before he released it, and took a step back to observe and reflect.

Despite its unfamiliar, foreign composition, the Force could manipulate the energy in front of him. It acted as a barrier, not as a medium. Once past it, he should be able to move about undetected. The Force allowed one to pass living and non-living creatures undetected; perhaps it would allow passage past this barrier as well.

Maul centred himself. He drew the malignant energy of the Dark Side around him, forming a layer around his entire body. Holding the dark layer steady, he pushed one hand through the veil, fingers extended and rigid. There was a subtle pressure, but no friction. The Sith grinned; he slipped across the threshold unnoticed.

Past the first barrier, Maul approached the door. The Sith extended one hand, feeling more of the odd force sensations surrounding the door; similar to the veil in the corridor, but with a different purpose. Whoever had placed these energies had skills beyond Maul's experience.

Still, if a simple, albeit powerful Force shield enabled him to bypass the outer defense, then it seemed that his target had never encountered a Sith or Jedi before. He gave his extended hand a wave, mentally manipulating the locking mechanism. The door hissed open, allowing an errant wisp of water vapour to curl into the corridor.

Maul almost smiled. His target was in the fresher. How fortuitous.

He strode into the room, scanning and cataloguing possible weapons, ignoring the ostentatious displays of wealth. His Force Sense told him that there was only one living being in the apartment, and one activated, but severely damaged droid.

To his left, the decapitated head of a droid started hissing as though expressing air through the grill on the front. A damaged vocal processor? Given the state of the droid's head, it was not an unreasonable assumption.

Oddly, that was enough to warn his target. A young human male, perhaps twenty-three standard years of age, stumbled out of the fresher, dripping wet and completely nude. His black hair was plastered damply against his skull, and his lithe, well-toned body displayed several scars that bespoke much experience with pain. The young man forced a crude set of corrective lenses onto the bridge of his nose, and stood in the doorway to the fresher with nothing more than a small wooden stick for a weapon.

Maul gave a feral smile. His presence had startled the human, but the Sith sensed no fear in him. Time to change that.

Slowly, Maul reached up and pushed the hood of his black cloak back, revealing his face and head. It was the first step of a dance he had played out many times; a move that always instilled fear in his opponents.

The young man simply tilted his head slightly to one side, not the least bit intimidated.

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: Thanks to my reviewers - Memory25, TheReader8, Duquette7, Jman12394, Zen Rinnegan, tenchifew, So you want to be an Author, metal.v2, Lordban, Rake1810, Zealot of Reading, crobhdearg, Orlok Tsubodai Bahadur, exaigon, Nate88, killroy225, Raychaell Dionzeros, unanimously anonymous. mostly, Beloved Daughter, erisedreturns and Beware of Nargles.


	3. Chapter 3

disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is either JK's or George's. I dare say anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

As disciplined as he was, Maul did not let the faint annoyance at the lack of reaction register on his features. The human would soon learn.

It seemed that the nude man did at least understand that violence was inevitable. He brought the stick up and gave it a complex wave. Maul was student enough of humanoid physiologies to identify that the movements were executed through muscle memory rather than conscious direction.

The Force suddenly shrieked in pain as the stick finished weaving through its complex path. Maul's smile vanished, and he shuddered at the unexpected sensation. So, the human consciously wounded the Force. Not that it would have saved him had it been inadvertent, but Maul's determination took on a new, sharper edge. With a snarl, he reached beneath his cloak and withdrew his lightsaber. He swung it through a tight arc, and ignited the scarlet blade. Still the human displayed no fear, not even concern. The eyebrows above the lenses rose in mild surprise, but he obviously recognised a lightsaber. Yet he felt no fear at one being raised against him?

Maul briefly wondered about that lack of fear. Was it due to the human's confidence in his own abilities, or simply born of ignorance?

The human twisted the stick in the air again, but this time Maul was ready for the Force's pained response. Through the howl against its nature, the Force still warned Maul of danger. The human's stick turned out to be a weapon, sending a painfully slow pulse of red power at him. The Sith easily, even trivially, caught the red jet of light on his blade, sending it into a wall.

That caused the human to register some surprise, even if it was just some raised eyebrows. To the Force's anguish, he once again passed the stick in a complex series of movements around his left hand, and then sank into a high crouch, ready to move in any direction. In an instant, Maul read the stance and understood his opponent. This human preferred to fight at a distance, attacking with these polluted Force energies.

Calling on the Force to speed his movements, Maul launched himself at the human, closing the distance between them and determined to end this being in one stroke. He moved so quickly that a human with no innate Force abilities could not physically react in time. He brought the blade down, faintly amused as his opponent's instinctive reaction of trying to catch the lightsaber in his hand.

The sensation of blade meeting unexpected resistance shocked Maul to his core. With eyes and mouth both wide open, he stared at the deadly glowing blade resting in the human's unprotected palm.

He… he'd _caught a lightsaber blade! In his hand!_

Instincts honed by a lifetime of Sith-Lord testing had Maul twisting out of the way of the Force-cursed stick, but a shocking blow scraped past his abdomen, breaking some ribs and sending the Sith warrior flying.

Maul ignored the pain.

He twisted in the air, disregarding his injuries; there would be time for healing later. His quarry was torturing the Force again, the unnatural manipulations causing him to momentarily lose his Force connection. He still landed perfectly, without even a whisper of noise and in perfect balance. A true Sith warrior did not need to touch the Force for something as simple as that.

Maul was ready for the next attack. Unused to close, physical combat, his opponent's tactics would be to keep his distance while attacking with projectile weapons.

Three bulky chairs rocketed towards him. Maul felt a small sense of satisfaction at his predictions being borne out. Still, even a pathetic Jedi Padawan had the skills to defeat such a clumsy attack. He raised one arm and gestured with a flick of his wrist, banishing all three chairs back at the dark-haired man.

Once more calling on the Force, the Sith sprinted around the room in an arc, flanking his quarry, attacking from his blind spot. The human waved that stick of his, reversing the momentum of two of the three chairs. He ducked the last, putting his neck in the perfect position for Maul to strike.

Once again, his lightsaber blade met unexpected resistance instead of slicing through the man's neck. Deep in the Force, there was a piercing shriek combined with two concurrent pulses of power, one in front and one behind the Sith. In the midst of the confusion, the young man vanished from under him. Now overbalanced, Maul's crimson blade sank deep into the floor. Maul fought to merely shudder at the feeling of the Force being torn apart. He almost missed the faint warning chime amid the inaudible howling in the Force, but ignited his lightsaber's second blade and just managed to deflect another pulse of polluted Force energy.

Maul cursed himself his overconfidence. He had been sure his skills were up to the task of dispatching this perversion of nature. But the human had abilities Maul had never heard of; had never imagined existed. Whenever his master had sent him on an assassination mission, the Sith apprentice had relied on his combat abilities exclusively; it had been a matter of pride. But with no measure of his opponent's full capabilities, he would have to swallow that pride and use all his own Force skills to ensure victory.

Without sparing the time to turn and look, he called to the Force and hurled the heavy stone table from the room's eating area at the human. The unexpected attack struck true, knocking him down. Maul turned and assumed a defensive stance, searching the Force for new dangers.

Two large animals bore down on him. They had not been here before, and Maul had not sensed their arrival. In the time it took to observe them with his yellow eyes, the Sith had determined that the creatures had no Force signature. They weren't alive.

They were an illusion then. A convincing illusion - Maul could hear the click of their claws upon the stone floor as well as their growls and panting - but an illusion nonetheless. He ignored the creatures and focused on the human, calculating the method of attack most likely to end his life quickly.

Pain flooded his leg as one of the creatures clamped its jaws down on his left thigh. As his eyes widened in shock, the other beast bit his right forearm.

Had the Force betrayed him? These creatures were real! Flesh and blood and bone, yet there was no spark of life within them. Even droids were visible to the Force, the dense electronic components dancing with energy, but these beasts were as empty of the Force as the furnishings of the room. They were the incarnation of perversion.

Even in shock, his body reacted. Years of training meant that he could move without thinking. Maul shifted his grip on his lightsaber hilt, using his left hand. A simple flick of a wrist sliced the creature biting his thigh in two. He raised his right arm, twisting his torso slightly to compensate for his injuries.

Once more, the Force cried out in pain, but with Maul's sudden doubt, it was subdued, muted, as though it was hardly worth the bother. The crimson blade scraped the remaining creature from his arm just as a pulse of foul power clipped his hip.

He fumbled his lightsaber.

He'd not done that since, well, ever. He'd never done that. He glanced down, ready to snatch the lightsaber hilt before it hit the ground when he saw something that shocked him to his core.

His fingers and thumbs were no longer attached to his hands.

He mentally screamed, all doubt gone. Anger flooded him, and he dove into the Force, telekinetically wrenching his fallen lightsaber from the floor and hurling it at the human as hard as he could manage.

The Force cried out again as the human raised his stick, somehow sucking all momentum from the lightsaber and dropping it to the floor. Then, before Maul could either call the weapon back to hand or thrust it forward once more, liquid ceramic tentacles erupted from the floor. The perverted things wrapped around and bound his weapon, denying it from his mental grasp.

This time, the Sith screamed his fury out loud. Flooded with the Force, he darted forward, covering the distance between them in the literal blink of an eye, wrenching the heavy table off the human in the process. One precise kick sent the Force-cursed stick flying from the human's grasp. Not satisfied with simply disarming his opponent, Maul reversed the kick, slamming his heel against the young man's cheek.

Such a blow would have knocked almost any human unconscious. That the boy retained the presence of mind to try and kick Maul's feet from under him showed a depth of mental discipline and determination that the Sith could respect.

Still, the weak kick swung out painfully slowly to Maul's enhanced senses. He leapt, determined to cause as much pain to this human as possible. He landed on the human's abdomen, his right knee driven deep into the unprotected soft tissue.

The human's abdominal muscles tightened involuntarily, causing him to sit up and putting his neck in easy reach. Maul reached out before realisation dawned that he could not physically grasp with no fingers. Instead, he drew his right arm back, palm upraised, and prepared to drive the human's nose into his brain.

In the brief moment it had taken to recover from that small mistake, his opponent reached out, grabbed a handful of his clothes, and drove his forehead into Maul's nose, breaking it.

But Maul had broken his nose while training with his Master so often that his eyes barely watered. He struck with his right hand, and only a desperate defensive move caused the blow to fly wide. Enveloping his left hand with the Force, Maul swung, driving the edge of his hand hard against the human's right side. He felt ribs collapse under the strike.

Maul realised that without his stick, the human was defenceless against him. Confidence returned with a rush, and he drew back his hand once more, preparing to cripple the young man.

The Force violently erupted around him.

Nothing he had ever experienced prepared him for the aberrant rush. He stiffened as hard as duracrete as he was crushed, pulled, stretched and tormented. The Force wept pitifully at the abuse. Only Maul's inhumanly strong discipline kept him from following suit.

After that instant of agonized eternity ended, Maul found himself floating; disoriented and confused.

Pain erupted in his groin, but it was a good pain. A pain he could use to reconfirm his attachment to reality. A pain he could use to focus his scrambled consciousness.

His body reacted, pushing the cause away. Reality flooded his senses.

He was falling. Wind whipped at his hood and clothes. Maul jerked his head from side to side, desperately searching for answers. A black speeder sounded its horn and swerved to avoid the tumbling Zabrak.

A speeder! He twisted to face down, scanning for a vehicle he could commandeer. Through eyes streaming in the rushing air, he spotted a small, yellow open-top speeder in the next vehicle level. It was small enough for him to move. He reached out one fingerless hand and called to the Force. The yellow vehicle shuddered, its driver desperately trying to recover control. It shunted out of alignment, rocketing under Maul's direction to beneath his feet. If he wrapped himself in the Force, he would survive this fall.

The now-familiar double flash and scream in the Force distracted him momentarily, but the Sith forced himself to keep his attention on the speeder. Something grabbed his hood and slapped the back of his head. Realisation hit the very instant pain struck.

This time, despite the shocking agony, Maul retained his awareness. He batted the arms away and swung around, kicking out hard at the blasted human. The kick sent the pair tumbling apart, but he wondered at the human's blatant disregard for safety. After just a few moments, the pair were falling at a few hundred kilometres an hour, yet his opponent continued to fight. Why?

Did the naked human have a method of surviving such a fall? Or did he have such a disregard for his own life that he would... no, the human had deliberately thrown them both off the building. He must have a way of surviving.

Maul dropped past the lowest vehicle stream, his eyes still on the human. Nothing could save him now. He would die this day. He had no fingers to manipulate his belt-tools or bracer, even had they been of use in stopping a fall of this magnitude. There was nothing to call to his aid through the Force. Not even a Sith Master could survive a fall from greater than a kilometre. But the human's actions, putting them both into this situation probably meant that he had some way of escape.

No. If the Sith was going to die, then so was his quarry. He would die, but he would die completing his mission for his master.

Maul reached out with both his hand and the Force, choking the human with all his considerable might.

Rather than the expected expression of terror, green eyes held nothing more than determination. Again, the human flashed out of existence to the torment of the Force, causing Maul's Force grip to slip away. The corresponding flash above told the Sith exactly where the human had appeared.

Now almost used to the disorienting pain caused by his opponent's teleportation, Maul anticipated a kick to his head and managed to clasp the human's leg between his Force-enhanced hands. A couple of seconds or so above a Coruscant plaza, Maul hurled the human straight down with every last shred of strength in his body, combined with as strong a Force push as he'd ever performed.

The human tumbled head over feet, aligning himself upright. In the instant before crashing into the duracrete, he once again flashed out of existence, tearing the Force apart as he did so.

As Maul thundered hard into the plaza floor, he caught a single glimpse of his quarry in a deep crouch, unharmed by the long fall.

There was no pain. He had wrapped himself as tightly in the Force as he had ever done in his life. He heard his bones break on impact; he knew that his internal organs had ruptured. But there was no pain.

With the final remnants of his will, Maul opened his eyes. Instantly, he knew that his skull had been fractured. Standing over him, blurred and double, was the human he had been sent to kill. The human he had first seen less than two minutes ago.

Had he the strength, Maul would have spat at him. Instead, he mentally hurled every shred of hatred and rage towards the being that had killed him.

The twin blobs grew larger and closer, and Maul heard a voice whisper an odd word. Instantly, there was an alien presence in his mind. It slipped through his consciousness, not reading thoughts, but examining memories.

Had he been uninjured, Maul may well have toyed with the presence. His master was as skilled as he was subtle at the mind arts, and had forged his apprentice's mind into a veritable fortress against Force intrusions. But with his life force ebbing away and blood seeping through a fracture in his skull, what remained of Maul's mental defences were pitiful. He threw every negative emotion he had ever felt at the intrusion, hoping that the emotive offensive was enough to force the intruder from his mind.

It worked. The alien pressure eased.

That faint satisfaction was the last thing Darth Maul ever experienced.

* * *

Senator Palpatine touched a manicured hand to his heart, a hitch in his breath. The movement went almost unnoticed by the bureaucrats and politicians around him. Organa of Alderaan glanced his way, eyebrows raised in a silent query. Palpatine gave the man a small smile and a tiny gesture, tapping his stomach as though he'd just had a slight moment of indigestion.

He settled into a breathing exercise once Organa's attention was diverted, shielding his thoughts and feelings. It would not do for his carefully crafted façade of the exquisitely mannered, genial senator from a cultured civilisation to be exposed as a sham. Not that it was at all likely; Palpatine had been hiding himself for so long it was a natural state of being.

For several moments there had been repetitive and shocking Force disturbances. Behind his blank, Senatorial mask Palpatine had savoured the anticipation of his apprentice's victory. But the final disturbing sensation laid that expectation to rest. His apprentice was dead. Maul had failed.

While not disastrous, it was a major setback. Maul was the physical manifestation of his will, able to traverse the galaxy to carry out Sidious' orders even while Senator Palpatine was Coruscant-bound by his many duties.

Palpatine ignored the droning tones of the mid-level bureaucrat addressing the small group. Besides the three nominee Senators, nearly fifty other politicians and civil servants were present to be briefed on the convoluted, almost labyrinthine procedures that surrounded the election of a new Supreme Chancellor partway through a Senate Seating. He already knew more about the legalities being discussed than anyone else in the room, having artfully engineered events to ensure the antiquated, almost forgotten procedures were enacted. The sudden power vacuum at the top of the Senate's structure outside of the usual election cycle ensured that the number of possible candidates was kept to a minimum, and that the election was held so quickly that there would not be time enough to mount an effective counter campaign to his candidacy.

He activated his datapad and brought up his commitments for the remainder of the day. There was nothing that was unimportant enough that he could meaningfully cancel; not this close to his goal of being elected as Chancellor. A few hours ago, he and Queen Amidala had addressed the Senate. The naïve child had accepted his arguments without complaint, and had called for the vote of no confidence in Valorum. That act had started a chain of events that should result in his elevation.

So long as he could get that treaty signed.

* * *

Qui-Gon bit back his frustration at the Council's recalcitrance. Anakin's future was in limbo, with no decision to be made regarding his training or its lack. The Council simply did not view the matter as important enough.

Before he could mount another argument on a different tack, the door to the council chambers hissed open. An aged Cosian wearing Jedi robes entered, walking slowly with the aid of a cane. Thick, pale hair framed the long, equine face. Despite the old Jedi's hunched posture and ambulatory pace, his large amber eyes were alert, and betrayed no hint of mental weakness.

Yoda tilted his head slightly at the newcomer. "Master Sinube? Summoned, you were not. Something of importance to report, you have, hmm?"

With a harrumph, Sinube cleared his throat. "Ahum, yes. I have some information regarding our wayward visitor. I would have waited to report, but I understand that Master Jinn here claimed to have recently encountered a Sith."

Qui-Gon nodded, curious at the apparent non-sequitur. "That is correct, Master Sinube."

Sinube reached into his robes and withdrew a holovid screen. "Is this the being you encountered, Master Jinn?" he asked, delicately sending the screen floating to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon plucked the holovid from the air. It only took him a second to recognise the Zabrak who had attacked him on Tatooine. The fact that the Sith was clearly dead stunned him. "It certainly appears so. The colouring is identical, and the pattern of tattoos is as I remember. How did he die?"

Sinube crossed his hands over the handle of his cane. "Masters?" he asked the Council.

Several members glanced at each other before the twelve each nodded their ascent. Mace Windu spoke to Qui-Gon and his Padawan. "Almost two days ago, a human male who did not speak Galactic Basic appeared in the Temple to the accompaniment of an unprecedented disturbance in the Force. He left the Temple before a protocol droid could learn his language."

Obi-Wan frowned, but raised his hand. At the bald Jedi's nod he asked, "Appeared? Did he break in somehow?"

"Break in, he did not. Appeared out of nothingness, he did."

"Appeared out of nothingness? But surely…"

"Reason to detain him, we had not," Yoda continued, shaking his head.

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. "The human's arrival left almost all Knights and Masters within the Temple reeling. Even had we the intention to detain him, it would have been difficult to communicate it."

Master and Padawan shared a look. This human was responsible for the disturbance that had caused them to pass out en route to Coruscant?

"Unfortunate it is, but against appearing out of thin air, no laws we have."

To Obi-Wan's wide-eyed, horrified surprise, a couple of the younger Council members smiled at Yoda's quip. _Smiled_!

Qui-Gon shook his head. "This sounds fanciful. Appearing out of nothing? Are you certain?"

"Security footage, there is, Qui-Gon. Appear without warning, the human did."

Qui-Gon looked down at the images of the dead Sith. "What does this arrival have to do with the Sith warrior?"

It was Sinube who answered. "Yesterday, I heard of the apparent murder of a Trandoshan smuggler at a sabaac game. From the witness' descriptions, the young human who killed the Trandoshan was the same one who appeared in our Temple. I offered the local authorities my services for their investigation." He inclined his equine-shaped head modestly. "My expertise on the Coruscant criminal element, you see."

"Laws against killing, we do have," Yoda said quietly.

"Masters Galia and Mundi were sent to arrest the human," Windu added. "It was our intention to interrogate him on the events that surrounded his arrival."

Adi Gallia cleared her throat. "He can somehow employ the Force, but how he does so is… wrong. The Force is somehow… _harmed_ each time."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged glances. "The awful disturbances over the past two days are the result of this human abusing the Force?"

"Yes," Adi continued. "Luminara and I followed a series of those Force disturbances to their source. A small alleyway in the terranean city levels in a distant sector. Even though the human was no longer there, the Force still wept from his abuse." She shook her head, almost as if disbelieving her testimony. "He appears to be able to manipulate spatial dimensions. It was… unnerving to witness."

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged glances. Manipulate spatial dimensions? How was that possible?

Mundi cleared his throat. "Using security footage, my team and I tracked him to mid-level, exiting a junk shop with the severed head of a droid. Despite the damage, the droid was operational. The human spoke to the droid in a language made up of sibilant hissing before escaping us."

"Hissing?" Qui-Gon asked. "Have you identified this language? Its home world?"

Mundi withdrew a small datapad from his robes. "When responding to the human's question, his protocol droid used a few words in Basic, According to Jocasta, there are several million languages in current and former use that use sibilant sounds, though only a tiny fraction use them to a significant degree. Only three of those languages do not have native words for those spoken by the droid. None of those languages are considered modern, and none of them are spoken by humans." The Jedi Master looked up from the datapad. "Indeed, it is considered impossible for humans to learn any one of the three."

Qui-Gon absorbed this. This human was a multi-tiered enigma. "How did he escape?"

"He chose to leap from the walkway rather than be arrested," Mundi replied.

Qui-Gon blinked. "He jumped?"

"He had some sort of Force-powered, flight-capable device that allowed him to flee. Incongruously, it appeared to resemble a primitive cleaning tool. A long, straight wooden shaft with a collection of bristles attached to the end."

Qui-Gon wondered briefly is this was all some juvenile prank; or if the assembled Masters were suffering from some sort of mass-psychosis. "Force-powered?" he scoffed. "A Force-powered, flying broomstick?"

The Master nodded. "As abominable as it sounds, yes. We all sensed the power of the device as he flew on it, and could find no trace emissions from any engine or fuel cell. It flew a little faster than a standard speeder, but from the wake of tortured energies, we deduce that it was powered by the Force."

Obi-Wan took a surprised step back at the concept, suddenly relieved that it was not appropriate for him to speak. A Force-powered _vehicle_?

Qui-Gon rubbed at his bearded chin, musing aloud, "A mechanical device imbued with the Force would be simple enough to follow, though."

Mundi nodded. "It was, until it disappeared. The disturbance in the Force was tremendous, but the human seemed to vanish. He had teleported to a distant point in the sky. A few minutes later, we felt an identical disturbance, as he teleported again."

"Teleported!?" Obi-Wan exclaimed, before slamming his mouth shut. Had he been a little younger, he'd have covered his mouth with his hand in shame.

"To where?" Qui-Gon asked over his Padawan, suspecting that he knew the answer.

"To the alleyway. To Luminara and Adi."

Adi shook her head, the petals on her headdress waving gently. "It was… painful. Not so much as his initial appearance in the Temple, but his arrival still overwhelmed us. He used some sort of weapon to leave us unconscious."

"But he didn't harm you?"

"No. He merely stole our credits and our vehicle."

Yoda frowned, closing his large eyes. "If teleport he can, arrest him, we cannot. Futile, it would be. Asked Master Sinube to watch him instead, we did." The little green Jedi clasped his clawed hands together. "Much to ponder on this matter, we have."

"Indeed," Mace agreed. "We cannot afford to make a mistake. Given the ease in which the human can presumably escape any form of custody, we deemed it necessary to simply observe him for the moment."

Qui-Gon pondered this new information. "It is unlikely that this human's sudden appearance and the re-emergence of the Sith are coincidental. Could they be working together? Perhaps the human has had Sith training?"

"_That_ scenario is not very likely," The Cosian Master disagreed with a voice filled with certainty. He placed one hand behind his back and stepped forward a few paces to the accompaniment of his cane tapping the floor.

Qui-Gon looked dubious. "Are you sure?"

"Oh my yes, quite sure. The human is either ignorant of or ambivalent about the myriad ways he can be tracked. I traced Master Galia's vehicle to a diplomatic hotel in a nearby sector. He had taken a luxury suite there, after defusing a potentially volatile situation in one of the lounges…" The Cosian paused and appeared to make a new conclusion. "Hmm. It would appear that despite his abuse of the Force, it still directs events around him. The situation involved the Nemoidian Senator Dod and one of the Nabooan cultural Ministers."

Qui-Gon drew a sharp breath. "He intervened in a dispute between Naboo and the Trade Federation, and then is attacked by the same Sith that tried to kidnap the Nabooan Queen?"

Master Sinube nodded amiably. "It stretches credulity to suggest coincidence, does it not? In any event, once in his room, he used some of his abilities to set up some sort of permeable barrier around the suite. He then set about his ablutions." He tapped the holo in Qui-Gon's hand. "This Sith of yours entered the room and attacked him."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened at that.

"The fight was over quickly. Neither combatant was familiar with the abilities of the other. It seemed for a moment that the young human would be killed, but he performed his teleportation trick and appeared outside the hotel window, taking the Sith with him. The pair fell one point eight four kilometres onto a duracrete walkway."

"But the human survived." It wasn't a question.

Sinube nodded. "Indeed. There are no reliable security vids unfortunately, but all the witnesses say that he landed on his feet."

That caused a stir amongst the assembled Jedi. "On his feet? From that height?"

Sinube seemed quite cheerful at the idea. "Oh yes. As he was completely naked, his appearance caused quite some stir, and he was noticed by hundreds of beings. He definitely landed safely. He checked on the Sith, apparently not bothered by the fact that the Zabrak had attacked him. Oddly, he closed the Sith's eyes once it eventually succumbed to the injuries sustained by the fall. An act that I suspect is a tradition or cultural demand on his home world. The human took some objects from the body and then he vanished. He had teleported again, travelling back to his hotel room."

Qui-Gon looked down at the holo of the Zabrak corpse. The sight seemed to release him from some imperceptible restraints. He had been sure that he would encounter the Zabrak again; the feeling in the Force had been so strong, almost adamant. Now, it was as though previously unattainable paths had appeared. He felt the Living Force open in front of him. As though he suddenly had… choices? Did he have a different future? "Where is this human now?"

"He is still at the hotel. Perfectly visible, but hidden within the Force; a fact that when combined with all other observations leads me to conclude that not only has he never encountered a Jedi before, he is not familiar with modern technology. Knight Baator is observing him from a building a respectable distance away."

Qui-Gon asked, "What do you mean, hidden within the Force? His abilities sound anything but concealable."

Master Sinube shrugged. "He has done something to the Force, some sort of shielding. We can no longer sense the disturbances when he uses his abilities behind that shield. But any Jedi Knight, even the majority of our Padawans, would be able to sense the empty space in the Force." Sinube turned to face Yoda. "I should mention, the human has the Sith's lightsaber. An intriguing weapon too, as it has two blades."

Qui-Gon looked up from the holo. "Two blades?"

Yoda frowned. "Fallen out of favour, that ancient design has. Dangerous, but difficult to master, such a weapon is."

"A man able to kill the warrior I faced in minutes having his own lightsaber? That is not a comforting thought," Qui-Gon said.

Master Sinube nodded cheerfully. "Comforting, no. But the fact that the Sith and he were not working together is somewhat of a relief."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and raised a hand. At Master Windu's nod, he asked, "If this human is involved in the dispute between the Trade Federation and Naboo, then Master Qui-Gon and I may come across him. What should we do?"

Qui-Gon gave his Padawan a warm smile. "Indeed. What else do we know about this human?"

Master Mundi reached for his datapad again. "He struck his head after he first arrived. Tests done on the blood he left behind reveal some disturbing facts. He has no midi-chlorians at all, yet is unquestionably alive."

"Impossible," Obi-Wan breathed.

The Jedi Master continued, ignoring the Padawan. "His genetic markers show that he is unquestionably human. In every single genetic test used to determine proximity to human baseline, he falls within one standard deviation. Every single one."

"His eye colour is not found in natural human populations," a Master sitting behind Obi-Wan interjected.

"Eye colour is not a human proximity measurement," Mundi retorted.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed at the possibilities. "Could he be genetically engineered? Lab-grown to function without midi-chlorians?"

"Or descended from an extremely limited gene pool," Master Galia supplied. "A small or insular population on a single, isolated world could also explain the narrow genetic code."

"Only so long as the original stock was just as genetically limited," Mundi disagreed.

Galia shook her head. "A natural disaster reducing a population down to just a few thousand would suffice. Being illegally engineered does not explain why he does not understand Basic. Or why his native language is not recognised by our protocol droids."

"An inbred population does not explain his lack of midi-chlorians!"

Qui-Gon and his Padawan exchanged glances as the chamber erupted into furious, if civilized debate. Amid the rousing debate, the Jedi Master's mood was glum. Anakin's fate would not be decided until the mystery of this impossible human was solved.

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: Thanks to my reviewers - tenchifew, Nate88, Raychaell Dionzeros, Zealot of Reading, Eros Amor Black, crobhdearg, Naginator, killroy225, RagnarBlackmane, Beloved Daughter, impatientuser, Orlok Tsubodai Bahadur, arturus, exaigon, metal.v2, Graypdrink, kitsune of darkfire, Jman12394, urfan, KashikoiNekoHu, imgonnadie, Vilkath, Darklooshkin and Guests.


	4. Chapter 4

disclaimer=standard

Anything you recognise belongs to JK or George. Anything else probably belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

Qui-Gon leaned back in the comfortable lounge chair, silently observing the interaction between his padawan and ward. Obi-Wan had been curt to the point of aggressive with Anakin, lecturing him endlessly on the boy's recklessness during the Battle of Naboo.

Anakin bore the sermons with seeming good grace, though Qui-Gon felt the boy's irritation through the Force quite clearly. The Jedi Master considered suggesting to Obi-wan that he reduce the intensity of his lecture, but held back; content to observe.

His padawan was ready for the trials, that much was certain. But he was not ready for a padawan of his own. Not yet. He still needed more time to mature and develop a sense of empathy for those around him.

As Obi-wan's words washed over an inattentive Anakin, Qui-Gon reviewed the past few days. The Queen had insisted on leaving the safety of the capital in order to return to Naboo with barely the ghost of a plan to retake her homeworld. Her assets at the time had consisted of her two Jedi protectors and their young ward, a small honour guard, a handful of handmaidens, a quirky astromech droid and a perpetually inept Gungan. Her unexpected success could only be attributed to the will of the Force.

She had managed to forge an alliance - in minutes - with a species that blamed the human population for bringing the droid army down upon them. As an experienced mediator and diplomat, Qui-Gon knew that negotiations to forge a military alliance between even ostensibly friendly groups normally took weeks, if not months. That the Queen had started the negotiations in a deceptive manner should have caused irreparable harm to her position, but she had won Boss Nass over with one speech.

Then Boss Nass, whom had intimate knowledge of Jar-Jar's abilities (or at least, the lack thereof), appointed the bungling Gungan to be the leader of the Gungan army. Already at a severe disadvantage, such a decision could well have caused mass desertions.

But the most astounding part of the entire affair had been the Trade Federation's complete lack of military strategy. The Gungans' tactics had been to gather their entire army, reserves and all, in the open under a single shield. With the turbolaser-equipped droid controller capital ship in orbit above the planet, a minor adjustment in the orbit could have positioned it above the Gungans. A single turbolaser salvo would have exterminated the force with the press of a button.

But even had there been some unfathomable reason to keep the controller ship in geosynchronous orbit above Theed, an aerial bombing run or a tactical, high-explosive missile, or even long-range artillery fire could have achieved the same outcome. And all three blindingly simple tactics were well within the capabilities of the occupying droid army. Instead, short range tanks had been deployed against a shield specifically designed to defend against short range tanks.

That droid infantry had been deployed at all proved that the bureaucrats rather than generals had been in charge. The Nemoidians wanted the Gungan's crushed at close range, a desire exhibited by emotionally invested yet inexperienced commanders.

Standing at the Queen's side throughout the assault, Qui-Gon had seldom encountered such lax security in a city under martial law. With the sole expection of a phlanx of shielded droidikas in the hanger bay (that Anakin had dispatched with lackadaisical ease), the vanguard did not encounter any other significant resistance. Even in the throne room, the few droid bodyguards remaining had been dispatched with straightforwardness, leaving the cowering Nute Gunray quite willing to sign anything put in front of him.

The operation had been astoundingly successful, to the surprise of the Jedi Master. But despite the long odds and inexplicable ineptitude, there was one other instant that confused him.

Qui-Gon frowned and pushed his mind back to the odd chord of discomfort he had felt through the Force. After Anakin had cleared the way and Qui-Gon had ordered him to remain in the cockpit, the group moved through the power station and into the heart of the palace. They had passed by a ray-shielded corridor. He had glanced down the glowing ruby-lined path, searching for threats when a tiny, odd sensation reverberated through the Force. The only way he could describe it was a sort of reverse-foreboding. Something terrible _might have happened_ at the end of that passageway.

But as a Jedi Master in tune with the Living Force, Qui-Gon had focused in the moment and concentrated upon protecting the Queen. It was only the brief look of confusion on his padawan's face that convinced him that Obi-wan had felt it too.

He closed his eyes and pushed his awareness back to that instant, searching for the sensation again.

A familiar feeling drew his attention back to the present. With a sigh, Qui-Gon opened his eyes and looked out the viewing window. A singularly recognizable ship ghosted down through the atmosphere to land with sublime grace on the nearest landing bay below.

"Obi-wan, Anakin," he called. "Come along."

Anakin looked up at him, curiosity on his face. Obi-wan glanced out at the yacht. "The Supreme Chancellor's personal transport? Does that mean…?"

"Reach out with your feelings."

Anakin frowned at the pair. "What are you doing?"

Obi-wan's eyes glazed momentarily before focusing. "Master Windu is on board. But I also sense… Senator Palpatine?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "Senator no longer, it would seem. If he travels in that ship then he won the vote. He is now the Supreme Chancellor. Come, let us pay our respects."

"Yes Master," both young men replied in unison. The pair shared a frown, but Qui-Gon's lips twitched. It felt _right_ that Anakin should be his padawan.

The trio reached the yacht as the boarding ramp locked open. Palpatine descended regally, dressed in the official robes of office. Mace Windu followed behind, dressed in traditional, unadorned Jedi robes. The difference was striking.

"Master Jinn," Palpatine welcomed with a gentile smile. "You have my most sincere gratitude for keeping Queen Amidala safe and secure throughout this entire ordeal. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you."

Qui-Gon gave a bow. "Your Excellency, the Jedi way is to serve."

Palpatine's smile thinned. "Of course. But that does not mean that those so served should be ungrateful. And Padawan Kenobi, my thanks to you as well. You are a credit to your Master."

Obi-wan bowed. "Thank you, Your Excellency."

Palpatine's eyes turned to Anakin. His smile grew wider, more genuine. He placed a familiar hand upon the boy's shoulder. "And you, young Skywalker. We shall watch your career with great interest."

Qui-Gon felt an instant of discomfort at the Chancellor's words, but the man had swept past before he could decide how to react. Mace moved closer to speak softly. "We need to speak, Qui-Gon."

* * *

"You must be joking!" Qui-Gon exploded.

Mace stared at his friend stonily. "I am not. This is the Council's decision."

"Obi-wan is ready," Qui-Gon insisted.

"The Council disagrees."

Qui-Gon took two deep breaths to blunt his frustration. "This is to stop me taking Anakin as my padawan," he declared.

Mace's expression, already like duracrete, hardened even more. "Such a claim is unworthy of you."

"Not denying it is unworthy of _you_," Qui-Gon retorted. "Obi-wan has done nothing to justify delaying his trials. If this is not a conscious decision by the Council, then it certainly is a convenient one, given I cannot take Anakin as my padawan until Obi-wan takes his trials."

"Qui-Gon! This is not a conspiracy. Obi-wan was taken as a padawan late, it is not inappropriate for him to take the trials late too."

"And you still don't deny it. Mace, we've known each other for too long."

Mace took a deep breath himself. "The decision to train Skywalker is one we need to make later, once we've learned more about this human who tears the Force. A vergence may center on Skywalker, but this newcomer presents more of a danger than even the Sith. We cannot risk training someone so old and so attached to his past life at this time. A Jedi as powerful as Skywalker promises to be would be a blight upon the galaxy if he fell."

"Or he could become its greatest defender! We need every ally to fight an enemy that has managed to live in the shadows for thousands of years. Mace, please," Qui-Gon begged.

Mace shook his head. "The Council's decision is final. Obi-wan still has more to learn before he takes his trials."

Through a clenched jaw, Qui-Gon asked, "And what happens to Anakin in the meantime?"

Mace sighed. "He goes to the AgriCorps, Qui-Gon. It would not be fair to keep him at the Temple while other children are trained around him. It will give him something productive to do and keep his mind off things."

* * *

Jedi Master Darrin Arkanian smoothed his just-donned robes down as he waited outside the entrance to the Jedi Council Chamber. It had been a tumultuous period since the inexplicable arrival of the unidentified human in the Temple. Having met the young man, however briefly, Darrin did not need the Force to sense that the near future would not be any more peaceful.

The battered astromech droid at his side beeped questioningly. Darrin ignored it.

After a short while, he sensed through the Force that the Masters were ready for his report. Darrin gestured to the droid to follow, then deftly manipulated the door mechanism and strode into the circular room. Besides the (present or holographic) Council members, there was a pair of protocol droids and several other Jedi in the chamber. Debate, it seems, had been lively.

"Master Arkanian," Yoda said. "A report for us, you have, hmm?"

Darrin bowed lightly. He replied in his native Sullust, "Yes Masters." He turned to the non-Council members. "I was sent to inspect the vessel whose Trandoshan First Mate was killed by the human with no midi-chlorians. It was empty, save for a single droid." He gestured at the droid at his side.

The astromech beeped, pleased to be part of the narrative.

"Examination of the logs and security system indicated that the crew worked variously as enforcers or smugglers for the Black Sun. After the First Mate's death, their slicer accessed municipal security droids, and tracked the human's movements. Once located, the Captain took the crew and set out to hunt him down. As was their habit, they left this droid behind to continue monitoring his movements and to send updates."

There was a beep, and a holographic Mace Windu appeared, seated in his usual position in the Council. "My apologies. I have spoken with Qui-Gon and he has agreed to abide by the Council's decision." He laced his fingers, elbows on his knees. "Master Arkanian, please forgive my interruption."

Mundi cleared his throat. "The crew were successful in confronting the human, I take it."

"They confronted him, certainly," Darrin replied. "'Success' would be a poor description of the encounter. After purchasing the droid head, the human descended past the levels of the city covered by the holocamera network. The crew were near enough to his trail to be able to continue tracking him by scent. The last contact they had with their droid was at the approximate time we felt a series of rapid and severe Force disturbances; at the location discovered by Masters Gallia and Luminara. The entire team of six were violently killed."

Luminara tilted her head to one side. "We found no remains. Indeed, no evidence of any violence whatsoever," she objected.

Darrin looked down at the droid. "Replay final transmission. Unfortunately, there is no holo; it is audio only."

The droid beeped. It whirled a bit and complied.

"_I can smell the human behind this door,"_ a voice said in rough Basic.

"_You're sure?"_ a second voice asked, speaking in Dosh.

"_Yes."_

"_I can hear something too,"_ a third voice responded. _"There's hissing of some sort, but there's a droid talking occasionally, too."_

"_The human's bones will decorate my cabin,"_ the Trandoshan said. There was a series of mechanical clicks signalling the loading of a weapon. _"Back."_

A thump, a metallic shriek, and two soft thumps of a weapon discharging grenades.

There was no corresponding explosions, however. After a moment the conversation continued.

"_What the?"_

"_Did he disarm the grenades?"_

"_Damn it, open this door. I'm going in. The human is mine. Alu, Fek, stay back in case he runs,"_ the Trandoshan ordered.

There was a pneumatic hiss. A rush of footsteps. A dull, wet explosion. Dozens of weapons discharging. Screams of agony. Shouts of fright. Wet splats.

Silence.

Then, an odd hissing conversation could be heard. One of the protocol droids in the room perked up, listening carefully. The hissing was punctuated by a bark of cynical laughter, the odd word in Galactic Basic or the human's unknown language. At one point a droid's voice shouted out in distress.

After some time, the conversation abruptly ceased. Darrin said, "The transmission ended there. The signal simply cut out."

Ki-Adi-Mundi tilted his head to one side. "That hissing at the end sounded exactly like the language the human used with the droid head."

"It is a language known as Wyrmspeech," one of the droids said.

That drew the attention of the assembled Jedi. "Wyrmspeech? That language is catalogued in our archives. It was discounted because it is unspeakable by human physiology," Jocasta Nu said.

"That is correct. It was cataloged approximately seventeen thousand years ago, but as it is not used by a technologically advanced species, it is only of interest to those studying xenolinquistics. There has not been a documented humanoid speaker of Wyrmspeech since its discovery."

Jocasta frowned. "But-"

Yoda cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Translate it, you can?"

"Yes, Master Yoda. Beginning translation."

There was a pause before the droid spoke again.

"_Query: Master? Are you still alive?"_

"_I'm fine. I got them all."_

"_Astonished Query: Master, where did you learn such imaginatively violent dispute resolution methods?"_

The droid repeated the distinctly human bark of laughter._ "Where? Lots of different places. People have been trying to kill me with monotonous regularity for almost my entire life. It tends to put you on your guard and hone your skills pretty quickly."_

"_Commentary: Obviously. Meatbags rarely develop such skills unless their pitiful existence is consistently threatened. However, I believe you have mistaken the intent behind my query for condemnation."_

"_So, what was the intent behind your query?"_

"_Obvious answer: Admiration, Master."_

"_You… liked it?"_

"_Observation: Oh yes, Master. It has been some time since I have had the pleasure of being owned by someone so skilled at facilitating the permanent removal of irritants; organic or otherwise."_

"_Er, thanks, I think. What are you?"_

"_Answer: Why, I am a protocol droid."_

"_Alright, I'll bite. Assume I know nothing. What is a protocol droid?"_

"_Statement: An assumption I shall be delighted to make, Master. Explanation: A protocol droid is a metal, er, creation. One that is capable of translating many languages and giving advice on how to conduct oneself in unfamiliar or dangerous situations."_

"_No, I don't believe you. You admired the way I killed these idiots. And you sounded proud of the fact that you once belonged to people who could do the same. You might be able to act as a protocol droid, but you are something else."_

"_Clarification: Currently I can only act as a protocol droid, Master. I appear to have suffered extensive damage at some time in the past; I am functioning solely on my tertiary power cells that drive my vocal processor. My primary and secondary power supplies are simply gone. Only my vocal processor and translation protocols are functioning correctly. Once you repair my body I should be able to access my combat protocols and demonstrate the full range of skills associated with my primary function."_

"_What body?"_

"_What do you mean, what body?"_

"_Here, see for yourself."_

"_Exclamation: My… No! What…? MEDIC! Droid down!"_

"_Oh shut up. You're nothing more than a mildly useful rock at present."_

"_Objection: There is no need to be so cruel Master. I already like you."_

"_What do I call you?"_

"_Answer: My name is HK-47. Query: Might I ask what your name is, Master?"_

The protocol droid gestured vaguely with its arms. "The recording ends at that point."

Jocasta Nu raised a hand to her lips in thought. "That designation..." she murmured.

"Jocasta? What is it?" Gallia asked.

The archivist slowly shook her head. "That droid's designation... HK-47... it is familiar. I'm sure I've read of it in the Jedi histories."

From his distant location, Windu raised an eyebrow. "The droid belonged to the Jedi, perhaps?"

"I doubt it, given its apparent programming. More likely it belonged to one of our order's enemies. I shall have to examine the archives."

The astromech whistled and warbled.

"The droid claims that the transmission ceased mid-stream as though the source was suddenly destroyed rather than simply deactivated. The transmitter was a small device sewn into the clothing of one of the crew members."

Mundi leaned back. "The encounter sounded violent. Weapons were certainly discharged."

Master Sinube harrumphed. "A-hem. A six-man Black Sun hit squad, a platoon of battle droids and a Sith Lord. This human is proving quite formidable."

Mundi gave the ancient Cosian a disapproving look, which the unflappable Jedi ignored. "Master Arkanian, did you discover anything else on the ship?"

Darrin nodded. "Not on the ship, but I met and spoke with the human."

That caused a stirring.

"The human and his droid arrived as I was examining the crews' belongings. I felt him abuse the Force to confound the hanger bay staff. Rather than confront him as a Jedi, I disrobed and dressed in one of the crew's work clothes. I chose to play the part of a crew member left behind to track his movements."

Sinube gave the Sullustan Jedi a nod of approval. "A wise course. He does not appear to notice being observed from a distance; or at least, does not appear to mind. No one who has confronted this human directly has succeeded. Few have survived the encounter."

Mundi shifted in his seat in a most un-Jedi-like manner.

Darrin nodded. "I did not get the sense that he was someone who enjoys indulging in violence, but death surrounds and clings to the human in a most disagreeable manner."

"An integral part of life, death is. Fear it, a Jedi should not."

Darrin nodded. "I do not fear death, Master. It is difficult to describe. Dark tendrils of death appear to follow him; they surround him and strengthen him, but he does not appear to be aware of it." The Sullustan Jedi shook his head. "I have never experienced anything like it."

"Spoke with you, he did?"

"In an indirect way, yes. I conversed briefly with the droid, and it translated for me. It certainly has an amoral personality module, but the speech mannerisms were identical to the translation. I begged to be allowed to collect my belongings and leave, and offered to transfer ownership of the ship to the human in return. The droid threatened me with dreadful retribution should I play false with them, but the human did not seem inclined to indulge it. In fact, I suspect the human had no idea the severity of the threats his droid was offering."

Sinube looked at the Sullustan Master, his eyes intense. "You got no sense that the human would kill as a matter of expediency, Master Arkanian?"

"Not at all, Master Sinube. I accessed the central authority and transferred ownership to the ship's access module. I used our Jedi authority to bypass the usual regulations flagged the ship of interest to us. We will be able to track its subsequent change of ownership, when the human changes it to his name."

"Thank you Master Arkanian. Anything else?"

"I was not expecting to be discovered, so was not well prepared. I did have a basic, short range tracking beacon in my possession, which I bundled in a rag and tossed it into the corner of the ship's hold on my way out. I did not have the opportunity to plant it more discretely. It is unlikely to remain undiscovered very long."

The astromech spat out a series of beeps.

"He says the beacon has already failed, Master Jedi," a protocol droid translated.

"Failed? The human discovered it already?" Luminara asked.

Another set of beeps was translated. "No, the beacon's transmissions were still being received, but they consisted only of errors, not spatial location data."

"Were being received? Has it left Coruscant local space?"

The astromech beeped. A protocol droid translated as, "Yes. Seven point three minutes ago, Masters."

o_ooo000ooo_o

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers. The next chapter of Havoc will be up in the next day or so, I just need to give it some polish.


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